


What Is and What Should Never Be

by QueenoftheQueers



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Blood, Cancer, Domestic Violence, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, HIV/AIDS, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-05
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-24 21:58:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4936855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenoftheQueers/pseuds/QueenoftheQueers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Several ways that Brian and Justin's relationship could have ended but didn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Is and What Should Never Be

Blood. It’s fucking everywhere. Blood on the pavement, blood on his hands, blood on his clothes. He hears an awful noise echo through the parking garage, something between a scream and a sob, and it takes him a few minutes to realize the noise came from him. He takes the white silk scarf and presses it to the head wound, but it quickly soaks through with the sticky red liquid that’s rapidly spreading across the pavement. He needs to snap out of this, needs to call an ambulance, but he can’t move, can’t breathe. This is all his fault.

He hears more screams and this time he’s happy to know it isn’t from him. He feels someone kneel down beside him and reach out for Justin, her pink dress now completely ruined with his blood. He doesn’t have to look to know it’s Daphne. She’s handling this better than him, because the next thing she does is whip out her phone and dial 911. She can barely get any words out between her sobs. She rests a hand on Brian’s shoulder, which is oddly comforting, but he still can’t pull his eyes away from the bloody mess that is Justin. He can’t tell if he’s breathing anymore.

They’re drawing in a nice crowd. Some people are yelling, others are crying, and there are a few comments about how he deserved it that make Brian’s blood boil. Brian wishes he has the strength to get up and kick someone’s ass, but Daphne beats him to it with a terse “Shut the fuck up! He could be dead! Are you so fucking heartless that you think he deserves to die because he’s gay?"

It seems like a lifetime until the ambulance arrives. Nobody argues with him when he gets in the ambulance beside Justin; nobody dares to separate them. He’s clutching onto Justin’s hand for dear life the whole way there. All he can think is ‘what if’. What if he never came to Justin’s prom? What if he never met the little blond twink who somehow wormed his way into his heart in the first place? Would Justin be healthy and happy now? Christ, this is all his fucking fault.

As soon as they wheel Justin out of the ambulance and into the hospital, Brian bends over and pukes up his last meal, right there on the sidewalk. This is so fucked. Just when he was starting to… No, he wasn’t even going to think it. If he thinks about just how much he cares for the kid, all the things he should have said to him, he’ll go insane.

He slips the white, blood-stained scarf around his neck and sits in the waiting room for God knows how long. He cries his fucking eyes out. He can’t remember the last time he cried this much. He glances up at the sound of footsteps and sees Michael, looking like a sad, hurt puppy. Brian vaguely remembers calling him, but he had done so in a haze. He could barely speak, could barely fathom what was happening. He still can’t. Michael sits down next to him and strokes his hair, comforts him as best he can. He doesn’t say anything because really, what can he say that will make this okay? There are no words.

When the doctor calls for the family of Justin Taylor, a pained expression on his face, Brian knows what he’s going to say. He doesn’t bother to get the news straight from the doctor’s mouth, he just gets up and leaves the hospital. He can’t hear it said out loud that Justin’s dead, can’t bear the looks of sympathy and the ‘I’m so sorry for your loss.’ It’s all empty, meaningless. All Brian knows is that Justin’s gone and he feels hollow.

******************************

After Justin is bashed, he doesn’t feel like himself anymore. He’s not ‘Sunshine’, like Debbie still calls him sometimes. He’s not even ‘Justin Taylor’. He’s just poor, fucked up Justin. The kid who was attacked at his prom. The kid with brain damage. The kid with nightmares and panic attacks. The kid who can barely go outside and can’t stand to be touched. That’s all he is now. That’s all he’ll ever be. Chris Hobbs saw to that.

Brian is letting him live with him, but Justin knows it’s out of pity. What else could it be? It’s not like Brian actually gives a shit about him. He didn’t even visit him in the hospital.

It’s when Brian can’t get him out of bed anymore that he really starts to panic. Justin’s barely talking, he hasn’t had a bite to eat for days, and he won’t even acknowledge Brian’s presence. It’s really freaking him the fuck out. He calls a therapist, despite his personal objections to seeing a shrink, tells the lady that he can’t get Justin out of bed and gets her to come to his loft, convincing her that it’s an absolute emergency. She sits on the edge of the bed, careful not to get too close to Justin, but he starts trembling at the close proximity of this total stranger anyway. She asks him questions about his mood, but he doesn’t answer any of them. In the end she writes a prescription for anti-depressants, Brian gets angry that she can’t do more, and she tells him to call in a couple days.

When Brian tries to get Justin to take his pills, he refuses. That’s when Brian really starts to feel helpless. And what does he do when he feels like he has no control over a situation? He takes it out on the people who love him. He screams at Justin, tells him he’s pathetic and he’s a coward and he can’t let Chris Hobbs win like this. He almost takes it back when he sees the tears rolling down Justin’s cheeks, but he can’t back down now. He needs to get Justin on the road to recovery. This will either work or break him further, Brian isn’t sure which, but something needs to change. When Justin curls in on himself, hugging his knees, Brian swears under his breath and leaves the loft to go get his dick sucked at Babylon.

Predictably, Michael yells at him for leaving Justin alone when he’s depressed like this. Michael never liked Justin, but since he got bashed he acts like they’re friends, like he’s one of his biggest supporters, and that pisses Brian off to no end. He ends up going home without picking up a trick. He’d like to think it’s because of Michael’s constant bitching, which really makes his dick soft, but in reality he’s just worried about Justin. He’s worried that he pushed him over the proverbial cliff and now he’s going to do something stupid since Brian isn’t there to stop him.

When he gets back to the loft and finds it empty, he knows he’s right. He can just feel that something horrible has happened. When he finds the letter on the counter addressed to him, he can’t breathe. He barely skims over it, only enough to see the words ‘I can’t do this anymore’ and ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘Please forgive me’ and, the worst one, ‘I love you’. He drops the letter on the floor and glances around the loft, looking for some clue as to where Justin could be. He has a terrible feeling that he already knows.  
He finds himself on the roof of his building, staring at the back of a familiar blond head. Justin looks so small from where he’s standing, like even the tiniest breeze could send him tumbling to his cold cement death. “Justin,” he calls and curses himself for the crack in his voice.

Justin glances over his shoulder, the tear tracks on his cheeks glistening in the moonlight. Brian takes a step forward and Justin whispers “Brian, stay back.” His voice sounds so small, so desperate. It makes Brian want to hold him and tell him everything’s going to be okay.

“Justin, don’t,” he says in a gentle voice, as calm as he can manage. “Just don’t. Come back to the loft and let’s talk about this, okay? You’re gonna be fine.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Justin says. His voice isn’t angry or harsh, he just sounds like he’s begging for the truth. “It’s not fine. It’s never going to be fine again. I’ve already made up my mind and nothing you say is going to change that.”

Brian lets out all the breath in his lungs at once, feeling like the air was punched out of him. “Okay,” he whispers. “Okay, just… Let me get closer to you. Let me go up on the ledge with you. I won’t try to make you come down, I promise.”

Justin thinks about it for a long moment before nodding slowly.

Brian walks up to the edge of the building and climbs on the ledge, glancing down at the street below. He watches the cars go by for a moment and thinks about all the people down there that are oblivious to the fact that a teenager is about to plummet to his death. Justin turns to face him and his eyes look so full of hurt, so sad that it makes Brian’s heart clench in his chest. He wraps his arms around his little blond twink and holds him close. “I’m not gonna try to stop you, Justin,” he whispers softly. “That wouldn’t be fair. You haven’t had much control over the way things have been going in your life, but you have control over this. I get it.”

“So you’ll let me do it?” Justin asks hopefully.

Brian doesn’t answer. He just rests his chin on the top of Justin’s head and closes his eyes. The one thing he knows for sure is that he can’t live with Justin’s death on his conscious. There are worse ways to go than jumping off a building, right? Besides, it’s not like he’s never contemplated suicide before.

Brian always knew he’d go out in a blaze of glory when he was still young and beautiful. And to die with Justin, holding him in his arms, is a nice way to go. It seems like, contrary to popular belief, he won’t have to die alone after all.

Justin buries his face in Brian’s neck and whispers a small “I love you.”

Brian nods and takes a deep breath, gathers up as much courage as he can but the words get caught in his throat. They’re about to fucking die, and he still can’t say the three words he knows Justin wants to hear more than anything. In the end he whispers “Me too.” That’s the best he can manage.

Justin presses a kiss to Brian’s neck and settles for that answer because he knows how hard it is for Brian to express his emotions, even the tiniest bit.

“Come on, Lois Lane. Let’s fly,” he says into Justin’s ear, vaguely reminiscent of a different night on top of a different building, standing on a ledge with Michael instead of Justin. It feels like a lifetime ago. “No more pain.”

Justin smiles for the first time since the bashing, a real genuine smile and it makes Brian want to kiss him and cry at the same time.

Their arms are wrapped around each other the whole way down. When they finally hit the ground, Justin is pleased to find that Brian was right. No more pain.

******************************

Justin realizes it’s his own fault when it happens. He was stupid enough to go to Sap’s party, stupid enough to take drugs from people he didn’t know, stupid enough to get a fucking job as a go-go boy in the first place. He shouldn’t be surprised when something awful happens, but he kind of is anyway.

He wakes up on the floor of an unfamiliar house, his head pounding and his stomach clenching, fighting back nausea. He groans and slowly opens his eyes, his vision slightly blurry at first, but eventually things come into focus. Where the hell is he? He sees several other people passed out in various places. Some he recognizes as other dancers from Babylon and some are complete strangers to him. It’s when he spots Sap on the couch that he starts to remember. He was at a party. He was there for decoration. Right.

He slowly starts to drag himself to his feet, which takes an insane amount of effort, and he feels a sharp pain in his ass. He’s naked, he suddenly realizes. He feels something wet and sticky on the back of his thighs and he swipes the substance with two of his fingers to try and see what it is. He lets out a small gasp as the events of the previous night come rushing back to him and he feels sick to his stomach. The sticky fluid is cum. Cum mixed with blood. Fucking Sap and his fucking friends had gotten him in a sling. He remembers screaming as someone pushed inside him with extremely minimal preparation, remembers crying and pleading with them to stop, remembers voices laughing at him and calling him a slut, a whore. He has never hated anyone as much as he hates himself in that moment.

He stumbles around the room and grabs the first set of pants and a shirt he can find. He’s practically swimming in the clothes once he puts them on, but it will have to do. He needs to get out of there right this second or he’ll have a panic attack.

Once he makes it out onto the street, he promptly retches and pukes up bile all over the asphalt. He wipes his mouth with one of his sleeves, grimacing at the acidic taste before making the long walk back to the loft, praying that Brian will be asleep when he gets there. He doesn’t want to have to explain everything right away.

Brian isn’t asleep. Of fucking course not, why should his luck start now? He’s sitting on the couch, smoking a joint and doesn’t even look at him when he steps inside the loft. A gruff “You’re late” is the only greeting he gets.

“Sorry,” he whispers, cursing how hoarse and cracked his voice sounds.

Brian glances over at him when he hears the sandpaper rough voice that couldn’t possibly belong to Justin. “What the fuck are you wearing?” He asks after a moment.

“Uh…” Justin glances down at his fabulous ensemble and shrugs helplessly.

Brian nods and takes another drag from his joint. “Was he hot?”

What? “What?”

“The guy you fucked. Was he hot?”

Oh. “I didn’t fuck anyone.” Technically he isn’t lying. He didn’t fuck anyone, he got fucked.

“Then why are you wearing someone else’s clothes?”

“I don’t know.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Justin sighs and runs a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Brian, I’m really fucking tired and I’m sore and I’m not in the mood for this goddamn conversation. All I want to do right now is sleep.”

Brian finally stands up and walks over to him, eyes narrowed. Once he sees the state Justin’s in, the deathly pale skin, the dark circles under his eyes, the tears stains on his cheeks, he looks less pissed off and more concerned. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” Justin tries to push past him but Brian catches his arm.

“Bullshit. Tell me.”

Justin shakes his head and bites his bottom lip nervously. “I can’t.”

“Yeah, you can.”

“No, I really can’t.”

“Justin.” Brian says his name in such a harsh, commanding tone that Justin nearly cracks.

“Brian, please. Don’t make me say it,” he pleads quietly.

Brian slowly pulls him over to the couch and sits him down. His expression softens a bit and so does his voice. “You have to.”

Justin reluctantly recounts the events of the previous evening to Brian. He leaves in all the gory details, even the ones where he screamed and begged for them to stop, no matter how humiliating it is. Brian’s eyes gets darker and darker as the story goes on. After it’s over, he says that Justin has to get tested for HIV and insists on checking out his body. When Justin nearly starts hyperventilating, he assures him that he’ll be quick and he just wants to make sure he doesn’t need immediate medical attention. As soon as he sees that the blood on the back of Justin’s thighs is fresh, not just dry, he takes him to the hospital, despite his protests.

It’s months later that Justin finds himself standing in the middle of the loft, the phone clutched tightly in his hand, trying to hold back tears. The doctor has given him the news he’d feared the most. He drops the phone on the floor with a loud clatter and claps a hand over his mouth, his body shaking violently. Brian climbs off the bed and walks over to Justin to see what’s wrong and once he sees the state he’s in, he just knows. He’s positive.

He holds Justin for the next few hours while he cries and assures him that everything will be okay. The professor is positive and he’s doing just fine. Justin will be fine too.

A week later, Brian comes home from work to find that Justin has all his things packed. “What the fuck is this?” he asks.

Justin looks up at Brian and, for what feels like the first time all week, he isn’t crying. “I’m leaving.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

Yeah, Brian does know why. That doesn’t mean he agrees. “You being positive doesn’t change anything.”

“It changes everything,” Justin insists miserably. “I can’t do this, Brian. I’m scared out of my fucking mind that I’m gonna give it to you if we have sex.”

“You’re not going to give it to me.”

“You don’t know that.”

Brian stays silent. He’s right, he doesn’t know for sure.

“I can’t have sex with you anymore,” Justin continues, his voice barely a whisper. “And if we can’t have sex, I don’t know why we’re still doing this.”

“I don’t care if you can’t have sex,” Brian answers. That isn’t totally true, but it’s not like he’s gonna kick Justin to the curb just because he’s scared to fuck. He’ll get over it.

“That’s not true. Our relationship was almost purely sex and we both know it. So I’m sorry.” With that, Justin slings a duffel bag over his shoulder and heads for the door.

In a last attempt to keep Justin with him, to buy more time, Brian grabs his hand and whispers “I don’t want you to go.”

In any other situation, Justin would be over the moon to hear Brian say that. But now it just makes him want to cry. He pulls his hand away. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, and before Brian can say anything else, he’s gone.

******************************

Brian knows it’s about the worst thing he could do, but he does it anyway.

When Michael told him about Justin and that kid he saw him kissing on the street, Brian pretended that it didn’t bother him, but that isn’t the truth. It bothers him a lot. So, what does he do when he’s hurt? He pushes people away. Shoves them off one of his famous Brian Kinney cliffs. The problem was, every time he tried to push Justin off of one, he kept climbing back up to the top. He’s angry, he’s being irrational, and at the time he wants to hurt Justin. That’s why he offers Ethan a job in an advertisement. Ethan is ecstatic, can’t stop thanking him, but he cuts him off. He drops the bomb, says “But you only get the job if you can do something for me” and he knows Ethan will do it, he can see it in his face. This kid will do whatever he says if it gets him that job, gets some decent money in his pocket. Perfect.

That’s how Brian finds himself fucking Ethan Gold in his bed, only minutes before Justin’s supposed to be home. He hears the door to the loft slide open and a small, hurt noise coming from the blond teenager that enters the room. He glances at Justin over his shoulder, his expression practically screaming ‘See how far romance and flowers and promises get you, Sunshine? Is this the true love you were looking for?’ Then he leans down and kisses Ethan directly on the mouth, because he knows that will hurt Justin more than anything. He feels Ethan’s hands on his chest, shoving him away as soon as he spots Justin, giving him a disgusted look, but he couldn’t care less about Ethan at the moment. He sits on the edge of the bed and looks at Justin, who’s staring at him with an expression he’s never seen on his face before. He’s never seen the kid look so hurt. Justin is crying openly, which he hardly ever does, and that’s when Brian knows he’s made a big fucking mistake. This time, the damage may be irreparable. He stands up and walks over to Justin, reaching out to touch him, but Justin jerks away from him like he’s been electrocuted. “Justin…” Brian whispers, trying to convey just how sorry he is without actually having to say it.

Justin doesn’t give him a response, just lets out a small sob and turns away from him, walking right back out of the loft and running down the stairs. Brian knows he should go after him, but he figures he needs some time to cool off. He has to come back to pick up his things anyway, so Brian can talk to him then, convince him to stay.

Justin doesn’t come back for his stuff. He calls Justin’s mother but she hangs up on him immediately. He calls Daphne next and gets a twenty minute long lecture on how much of an asshole he is, how much he hurt Justin. He says he knows and begs Daphne to tell him where Justin went. She sighs and says that he came to her apartment after he left the loft, told her what happened, and cried on her shoulder all night long. She says she’s never seen Justin so devastated and that makes Brian’s heart ache in an unexpected way. When he asks her if he’s still there, she says no, he left the next morning and no one knows where he went.

Brian tells himself that it’s okay, he’ll find Justin eventually. Justin has to come back, right? He can’t just leave Pittsburgh without so much as a goodbye, leave his family and friends behind.

He doesn’t come back. Brian supposes he should have seen that coming. There’s only so far you can push someone before they break. He had to learn the hard way that even Justin has a breaking point.

******************************

It starts with Brian flaunting his tricks in Justin’s face. It’s after Justin gets back together with Brian, after the whole fiddler fiasco, and Justin’s sure Brian’s trying to punish him.

The rules they had previously agreed to are no longer in place. Brian comes home whenever the fuck he wants and he kisses his tricks. Even worse, he kisses his tricks right in front of Justin. He wonders if Brian enjoys inflicting pain on him.

Back when he first got together with Brian, he would have said something, would have done something to stop the misery he was in. He never would have put up with Brian’s shit. But now he just takes everything he throws at him. He deserves it, after all. He left Brian for pretty words and bullshit promises. He deserves everything he fucking gets.

He’s standing at the bar now with Emmett and Ted, watching as Brian grabs some trick by the belt loops and pulls him in for a kiss. Emmett and Ted both look like they pity him. ‘Oh, poor little Justin. He thought he could change Brian fucking Kinney. How pathetic.’

The next thing Justin knows he’s downing three shots in a row and trying not to cry. He feels dead inside. He dips his head, trying to make sure no one sees the state he’s in, but then Emmett’s arm is around his shoulders and he’s leading him out of the club and into the back alley. He doesn’t say anything, just pulls Justin in for a hug and then Justin is full on sobbing, whispering about how he can’t take it anymore, it’s too painful.

Emmett hushes him and strokes his hair before pulling back and fishing for something in his pocket. He pulls out a tab of E and offers it to Justin. Normally Justin would say no, but right now is a special occasion. He sticks out his tongue and Emmett gives him a smile, placing it in his mouth before taking out another tab for himself. “Just forget about everything for right now, okay? Come back inside and dance with me.”

Justin nods and wipes away his tears, smiles gratefully before Emmett takes his hand and leads him back into Babylon.

Emmett never meant any harm when he gave Justin the drug, but he just feels so amazing once he takes it he never wants to stop. It makes him forget about Brian. It isn’t hard to get addicted after that.

It should have ended when Brian found the drugs in the pocket of Justin’s jacket. It should have ended when he found Justin puking his guts out into one of the trash cans outside of Babylon. It should have ended when he saw Justin blowing some guy in the back room in exchange for a couple tabs of E. But Brian is a selfish prick and he figures it isn’t his place to judge someone else’s pain management.

It’s when Emmett finally shows up at his door, looking like he’s about to cry that Brian finally starts to notice just how bad things are. Emmett pushes past him, walking into the loft and yelling “You’ve really done it this time, Brian.”

“And what exactly did I do this time, Honeycutt?” He knows it annoys Emmett when he calls him by his last name.

Emmett’s eyes blaze and Brian’s pretty sure he’s never seen him look so mad. “Justin’s totally fucking himself up and you’re just letting him do it.”

Brian raises an eyebrow and stays silent.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed that he’s high all the time now,” Emmett says, exasperated. “For fuck’s sake Brian, the kid’s killing himself and you couldn’t care less! Do you enjoy seeing him in pain? Is that it? Are you still trying to make him feel awful because of Ethan? Because right now I really don’t fucking care what issues you have with him. He needs your help. He’s drowning and you’re ignoring it.”

In hindsight, Brian should have done more to stop it.

After Emmett leaves, he confronts Justin about his drug addiction. Justin, who of course is high at the time, insists that he’s not addicted. It just makes him feel better sometimes. Brian asks him why he needs to feel better and Justin’s too stoned to filter his answer. “You hate me. I know you never loved me, but I thought you at least cared about me. And then ever since Ethan, you hate me. But that’s okay. I get it. I hate me too.”

Brian feels sick to his stomach. He holds Justin for the rest of the night and lets him sleep. He promises he’ll talk to the kid about it later this week. He just has to figure out what he’s going to say first, how he’s going to get him to stop.

Two days later, he gets the call. Justin overdosed in the back room of Babylon. He nearly collapses to the floor, gripping the counter for support. Oh god, please, no. “Is he alive?” he whispers, even though he already knows the answer. He hears the doctor on the other end of the phone give him her condolences but he isn’t listening anymore. This can’t be happening. He hangs up the phone, leans against the counter and slides down to the floor, pulling his knees up to his chest. He dials the number of the first person he thinks of. For some unknown reason, it isn’t Michael.

Emmett arrives in record time, in a completely mismatched outfit. He’d never heard Brian sound so devastated in all his life, so he threw on the first thing he could find and rushed over. He calls Brian’s name and glances around the loft before spotting him on the floor. He kneels down in front of Brian, sensing that something is seriously wrong and hesitantly asks what it is. “Justin…” Brian whispers, his voice hoarse. He can barely get the words out. “Justin’s… he’s… oh god, Justin’s fucking gone… he’s dead… it’s all my fucking fault…”

Emmett is stunned into silence, tears welling up in his eyes. He can easily tell Brian that yeah, it is his fault, but he won’t ever say that which Brian is grateful for. Instead, he sits down on the floor next to Brian and hesitantly places a hand on his shoulder. They sit like that for what feels like hours, not saying a word. There’s nothing left to say.

******************************

It’s after the Stockwell incident, when Brian loses his job that he starts drinking too much. Way too much. Brian always drank a lot, but Justin would never classify it as alcoholism until now. He let it go on for far too long before bringing it up.

He’s smart about it, he starts talking when Brian’s in one of his happy drunk moods instead of angry drunk or… actually, Brian’s either a happy drunk or an angry drunk. There’s not much in between. He says it when Brian’s balls deep inside of him, his face buried in his neck and giving him an array of hickeys like they’re in fucking high school. Justin notices that Brian’s never gentle anymore. “You know, you’ve been drinking a lot lately.”

Brian pauses in his rough thrusts and detaches himself from Justin’s neck, glancing up at him. “Uh, yeah. I tend to drink sometimes, like most other human beings. What’s your point?”

Justin figures there’s no reason to beat around the bush. “I think you’re an alcoholic.”

Brian laughs and deflects the comment with “You really want to have this conversation right now? With my cock up your ass?”

Justin sighs and whispers “Yeah, I do want to have this conversation. I’m worried about you.”

“Oh Christ,” Brian mumbles. “Look, I’m really fucking horny right now and I want to get off. You picked a hell of a time to bring this up.”

“I know, but I just-” Justin’s sentence is cut off and ends with a small whimper as Brian grabs a handful of his hair and yanks his head back with more force than is strictly necessary, immediately attacking his neck again.

It hurts, but it isn’t like Brian’s never done anything like this before. He’s slightly pissed off by the conversation, hence the extremely tight grip on his hair, and he’s trying to end it before it goes further. But Justin isn’t going to accept that, not this time. “Brian…” He whispers, his voice slightly rough. He pushes at Brian’s chest when he doesn’t stop and tries again. “Brian, would you cut it out? Listen to me, damn it! I’m worried. I’m trying to help you.”

Brian pulls back again, his eyes blazing, and growls “Shut the fuck up.” Justin is taken aback and he can’t help but feel a slight hint of fear. He thought Brian was just a little pissed off, but no, he’s angry. More than angry. Furious. Apparently bringing up the fact that he’s an alcoholic is a serious no no. “Brian,” Justin whispers again, his voice softer, and this time Brian grabs his throat instead of his hair.

Justin panics. Brian’s grip is too tight to just be playing around. Sure, they’d done this once or twice, where they would just be messing around and Brian would press down on his throat, just a bit. Never enough to cut off his air supply completely, but enough to make his orgasm fucking spectacular. But now when Brian presses down, Justin can’t breathe at all. He grips Brian’s wrist and tries to push him away, eyes wide. Brian’s really drunk, he knows that much. He’ll be horrified in the morning when he realizes what he’s done. Justin knows he’s trying to make excuses for him, but he doesn’t care. This isn’t Brian.

Justin’s completely lost his hard-on at this point, but Brian doesn’t seem to care. He starts thrusting again, so fucking hard and rough and animalistic that it starts to hurt. Normally Justin likes it rough, but this is on a whole other level. He’s really starting to struggle, which just makes Brian thrust harder and squeeze his throat even tighter, a warning.

Justin’s crying now, and he thinks he sees a flicker of something in Brian’s eyes at the sight of his tears, but maybe he’s just imagining it. When Brian finally comes, he releases his hold on Justin’s throat, leaving him to cough and wheeze and gasp for air. He ties off the condom and immediately walks to the bathroom to shower, without giving Justin so much as a backwards glance.

Once Justin doesn’t feel quite as light-headed anymore, he puts on his clothes and immediately leaves the loft. He can’t stay there for the night, not after what Brian did. But, as always, he knows he’ll be back again tomorrow. He kind of hates himself for that.

He stays at Daphne’s place for the night and doesn’t give her an explanation. For once, she doesn’t push. She sees the dark, finger-shaped bruises on Justin’s neck and that’s explanation enough.

Brian acts like nothing happened the next day and Justin just goes along with it. He’ll put up with a lot from Brian, which is sort of sad when he thinks about it. He loves him too much for his own good.

That night, when Brian starts kissing him, Justin wants to tell him to stop but he doesn’t. He forces himself to kiss Brian back and relax. It was just a one-time thing, right? A weird incident that happened and would never happen again. It had to be. When Brian’s laying on top of him, kissing and touching him much gentler than the night before, he stops for a moment, runs his fingers over the bruises around Justin’s neck and gives him an apologetic look before going right back to kissing him. That’s the only time they acknowledge the incident. Justin thinks it’s enough. It has to be enough.

The next time Justin brings it up is almost a month later. He’s pretty much blocked out the previous incident and he’s almost positive it won’t happen again. Or so he lets himself believe.

It’s when Brian’s been sitting on the bathroom floor, bent over the toilet and puking his guts out that Justin decides to bring it up again. He has the courtesy to wait until Brian’s done throwing up and drinks some water. “Brian, you need help.”

The reaction is instant. He sees Brian’s shoulders tense up and the expression on his face hardens. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Justin almost backs down but he realizes he needs to get Brian to see that he has a problem. “You just spent the last hour puking up your internal organs. You’re an alcoholic. I’m sorry, but you are. You need to get help.”

Brian stares at him for a couple seconds before shaking his head and muttering “Fuck off.”

Brian starts to walk towards the door and Justin darts forward, grabbing his arm to keep him from leaving. “Brian, please-”

It happens so fast it takes a few moments for Justin to process it. Brian spins around and slaps him across the face so hard it sends Justin to his knees, clutching his cheek. At first he doesn’t know how he ended up on the ground. He looks up at Brian as if he’s expecting an explanation, and when he sees the shock and regret on his face he knows. Oh my god, Brian just hit him. He doesn’t know what to do. He feels like he should get out of the loft as soon as possible, but he can’t do that. God, why can’t he do that? He already knows the answer. He can’t imagine his life without Brian anymore. He’s become too dependent on him. When the fuck did that happen? There are two words running through his head now, two words he really doesn’t want to believe. Abusive relationship. He can’t be in an abusive relationship. Brian would never do that. Would he?

Justin slowly stands up and when he sees the look on Brian’s face, he makes a split second decision. He pulls Brian down into a hug and runs his fingers through his hair. Brian just lets him do it. “It’s okay,” he whispers into his ear. “It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it. It’s okay.” Slowly, Brian’s arms come up to wrap around Justin’s waist and he buries his face in his neck. Justin lets himself believe that everything will be okay.

The next time it happens, Justin ends up with bruises on his arms from where Brian grabs him and a giant red mark on his cheek. He comes up with some bullshit explanation when he has his shift at the diner, but he’s sure nobody believes him. Debbie pulls him aside later and asks if he’s in trouble. He says no and she seems to accept it for now.

When he comes back to the loft, he hears someone crying. He stops outside the door and listens for a few minutes, which he really shouldn’t do, but he can’t help it. He peers into the loft and sees Michael holding Brian and rubbing his back. And Brian is… crying. When was the last time Justin had seen Brian cry? Maybe never. He hears Brian saying “I’m turning into him, Mikey. I’m just like him.”

Justin isn’t sure who he means, but then Michael speaks and it all makes sense. “You’re not your father, Brian. You fucked up, yeah, but I’m sure Justin understands. You were just upset.”

Of course Michael is defending Brian. But then again, so is Justin. It does make sense. Brian’s obviously upset about it, so he would cut him some slack.

It’s when it happens again in the same week that Justin realizes it’s going to become a regular occurrence. He can’t handle that. It takes a black eye and a split lip for him to make the hardest decision he’s ever had to make. He packs up the few sketchpads and changes of clothes he left at Brian’s loft and goes back to Daphne’s. Daphne lets him cry on her shoulder and tries to keep her anger in check when Justin tells her what happened.

Justin expects Brian to at least call, ask him where he went off to, but after a few days he accepts that it’s not going to happen. He attempts to convince himself that maybe Brian’s just trying to keep his distance, to protect him or something. Or he just never cared in the first place. Justin isn’t sure which.

******************************

When Brian’s cancer returns, he doesn’t try to hide it from Justin. He doesn’t build up to it either, he just drops the fucking bomb on him. “The cancer’s back.”

Justin’s eyes immediately go wide and he whispers in a horrified tone “Are you… Are you sure?”

Brian nods and says “Pretty sure. There’s a lump. I made an appointment for tomorrow. They wanted to get me in as soon as possible.”

Justin swallows thickly and tries to keep calm. Nothing is certain yet. Even if the cancer is back, they can take care of it. As long as it’s caught early, right? “Do you want me to go with you?”

Brian lets out a bitter chuckle and shakes his head. “No.”

Justin wishes Brian wouldn’t act so nonchalant about the whole thing, but he knows why. Brian has his certain coping mechanisms. He won’t take that away from him.

Justin doesn’t leave the loft the next day. He sits on the couch all morning and waits for Brian to come back from his doctor’s appointment. He feels like a nervous little housewife, silently waiting for her husband to return. He tries to take his mind off things. He watches TV, tries to sketch, but nothing seems to work.

When Brian comes home, he can immediately tell something is wrong. He just goes straight to the bedroom and lays down, his expression blank, eyes empty. Justin follows him and sits on the edge of the bed, places a hand on his thigh. “What did the doctor say?” he asks hesitantly.

Brian is silent for several moments before saying in a monotone voice “It spread.”

Justin can’t breathe. “What?”

“The cancer spread,” Brian repeats, his tone cold and uncaring. Justin would almost believe that he didn’t give a shit if his voice didn’t waver.

“I thought we caught it early.”

“Yeah, well, apparently not.”

Justin can’t help feeling like it’s his fault. He’d given Brian plenty of blowjobs for fuck’s sake, he should have noticed it. If he’d paid more attention… “How bad is it?”

Brian finally glances over at him and, in a slightly gentler voice, says “Liver, lungs, prostate.”

Justin chokes at the answer, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to hold himself together. Brian doesn’t have to tell him he’s going to die. He knows. “Are you going to do chemo?”

Brian doesn’t say anything, just shakes his head. Justin doesn’t blame him. If he was in Brian’s shoes, he wouldn’t want to do chemo either. It just prolongs your life for a little while and makes it more painful. “How long have you got?”

“Six months. Tops.”

Justin can’t help it. Tears well up in his eyes and he slaps a hand over his mouth to stifle a sob. Brian doesn’t comment on it, just pulls him down on the bed next to him and holds him. Justin buries his face in Brian’s chest and Brian runs his fingers through his hair and they stay that way for the rest of the day.

The six months Brian lives get gradually more painful. He hates letting Justin take care of him. He hates letting Justin see him this way. But he has no choice and it’s driving him crazy. Justin catches him crying a couple of times in the few months before his death and Brian tries to shrug them off, tries to act like he’s fine. Justin just hugs him and doesn’t say anything. He won’t comment on it if that’s what Brian wants. He tries to give Brian anything he needs in the time he has left.

Brian dies on a Thursday afternoon. It’s long and drawn out and painful. He doesn’t want to die in a hospital, but Justin has to insist. He needs help in taking care of him in the last few days and honestly, he needs some support himself. He’s holding Brian’s hand when it happens. They both know he’s going to die that day. He’s in severe pain and the doctors give him pain medication, which helps a bit, but Brian’s breathing is still ragged. He’s still gritting his teeth. Justin doesn’t want to miss his opportunity to say his last words, so he blurts out “I love you. And I-”

“Stop right there,” Brian manages to get out, his voice sounding like it’s been dragged over sandpaper. “No goodbyes. I hate fucking goodbyes.”

Justin nods and gives Brian a small smile, squeezes his hand slightly. “Okay. Then, uh… I’ll see you soon, Brian.”

Brian tries to smile in return but it comes out as more of a grimace. “Not too soon, okay, Sunshine?”

Justin blinks back tears. “Okay.”

He sits by Brian’s side, resting his forehead on the edge of the bed, and he can feel it when Brian’s hand starts to go slack in his own. It’s an hour after their last words that Brian’s heart finally stops. Justin knows he won’t be able to recover from this. All he can do is keep breathing and get through one day at a time.

******************************

Justin isn’t sure what happens. One minute, he’s talking and laughing and watching Cyndi Lauper perform, and the next there’s a bright white light, an explosion that sends him crashing into a wall, and then blinding, white hot pain. He’s staring at the ceiling and he can’t get out a scream even though he wants to. God, he wants to scream, it hurts so bad. He sees black creeping along the edges of his vision and he welcomes unconsciousness with open arms.

When Brian hears about the explosion on the news, his heart almost stops beating. He just knows something bad has happened to Justin. With his luck, Justin’s probably dead. He immediately tells the driver to turn around, pushing down the impending panic attack. He needs to stay calm, needs to keep a clear head.

When he gets to Babylon, all thoughts of keeping calm are out the window. It’s chaos. He yells Justin’s name and searches frantically for him among the people outside of the club. He finds Jennifer, who tells him that Justin is still inside, and he has a sick feeling in his stomach.

The inside of Babylon makes him want to puke. There are burnt corpses and people with awful injuries and he prays that Justin isn’t one of them.

God must really hate him because he finally spots Justin and he can’t breathe. Justin’s trapped beneath a pillar, laying in a pool of what Brian can only assume is his own blood. He runs over to the blond and kneels down next to him, trying to find where the bleeding is coming from. Images of the bashing flashes before his eyes and he feels like all he can say is “No no no no” over and over again.

Justin’s eyes flutter open and when he sees Brian there, he thinks he might be in Heaven. But then the excruciating pain returns and he realizes he is, unfortunately, still alive. God, he just wants to die. Anything to stop the pain. Tears escape from the corners of his eyes and he takes shallow breaths, whispering a small “Bri…?”

Brian glances up at Justin’s face and reaches to cup his cheek. “Hey, you’re okay. You’re gonna be fine.”

“It… It h-hurts,” Justin manages to get out between his clenched teeth.

Brian swallows thickly and nods. “I know. I’m so sorry. Just hang in there, okay? It’ll get better.”

He glances around to try to find a paramedic and then yells for someone to come help him. He doesn’t want to leave Justin for the time it would take to find a medic.

A couple seconds later, Emmett comes running and once he spots Justin, he slaps a hand over his mouth to stifle a cry. “Oh god, baby…” He gasps and points in the general direction of the door. “I’ll get help.”

Brian takes Justin’s free hand, the one that isn’t trapped beneath the pillar, and holds it tightly. “We’ll get you to a hospital, okay? They’ll make the pain go away, I promise.”

Justin chokes on a sob. “Brian, I’m sca… scared.”

“I know. I’m right here. I’m not gonna leave you.”

Emmett comes back a minute later with a paramedic and sits down on the floor next to Brian, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder. The paramedic studies Justin for a few moments before turning to Brian and saying “He’s lost a lot of blood. We need to get him out from under this pillar and to a hospital right away, but I’m afraid if we remove the pillar it might do more damage.”

Brian nods and tries to hold himself together. “Okay. Just… do it.”

He nods and leaves to get some other people to help him lift the pillar.

Justin looks up at Brian and squeezes his hand weakly, asking quietly “Am I going to die?”

Brian doesn’t lie to Justin. He never has and he thought he never would. But this time he does. “No, you’re not going to die. You’re gonna be just fine.”

The paramedic returns with several people and they all get a good hold on the pillar. They count to three before lifting it and Justin lets out the most blood-curdling scream Brian has ever heard. He knows that scream will haunt him the way the crack of the bat against his skull did. Justin writhes a bit and bites back another shriek, letting out a whimper instead. “Make it stop! Please, Brian, make it stop. Oh God, please.”

Brian feels so helpless. He’s never felt so shitty in his entire life.

They get Justin out from under the pillar and into an ambulance. His eyes are glazed with pain and Brian holds his hand the entire time. They’re halfway to the hospital when Justin finally gives in to his injuries. His eyes close and his hand goes limp in Brian’s. The paramedics try to resuscitate him, but it’s too late. He’s gone.

Brian thinks of all the things he should have done, should have said. He should have never let Justin leave the loft, should have never let their relationship end. He should have told Justin those three little words that the blond had wanted to hear since that very first night. But now, after five years of their messed-up, non-conventional, on-and-off relationship, Brian doesn’t know if Justin was even aware that he loves him. He really, really loves him. And now he’ll never get to say it, he’ll never get to make sure that Justin knows it. It hurts. It hurts so bad that Brian wants to die in that moment and he wonders if it’s true that the pain will lessen with time. Right now, he doesn’t think so.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic so please go easy on me. I'd love to hear what you thought of it!


End file.
